Jessica Mehta

Every morning after the school gates were locked we lined up for Inspection. Boy, girl lines, at least that’s how I remember it, I could ask my sister but she won’t remember, she has the most shocking crap memory, it’s amazing what she’s forgotten. More than most...

                                                      The phone started ringing just as I got to the M Street Bridge, the border between Georgetown and boring old Washington, D.C., where I lived. I ran up the scabby rise to the phone booth. The metal door folded in...

I tell Brandy about my stepmom saying nothing good happens after midnight, which was the stupidest, most Mom Phrase thing I’d ever heard, and it’s insulting since she’s not my mom and saying stupid shit like that just makes it obvious she doesn’t know what she’s even...

The way a guitar duo watches each other’s fingers on the strings, until one turns his face away for a private moment of satisfaction, then returns to the light of his partner; the way mistakes are shared, laughed over, corrected together—this was Francile’s ideal. But...

I think we should talk. Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that... Good, because the more we talk about it, the less of a big deal it is, really. I wanted you to hear it from me first. I mean we’re creative people. Why not be creative in our relationship? I...

When I was a regular adult, I thought nothing would scare me, but I was wrong. Now that I am old, I am afraid all the time. In the locked ward, patients in floppy slippers walk short laps; you see them pass again and again. A television blares. My beloved’s first...